


A Pain in the Back

by ClothesBeam



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Mirrors, No established relationship, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 05:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5697211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift helps Ratchet with his old man back pain while they're wandering through space. Things go a bit further than either of them originally intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pain in the Back

The small ship hummed beneath them as they slowly made their way back to Cybertron. Ratchet sighed as he rested face down on the berth. It had been a long time since his lower back had felt so good. He was glad Drift knew what he was doing with his hands, but he felt he could do without the monologue.

“And that feels better now that your orange chakra is open, right? I mean, it’s always been strong in you anyway, but…”

Ratchet rolled his optics and replied shortly, “Yes, thank you.” He’d massage that combination of struts himself if only he could reach, and there was nothing mystical about how that reduced his pain. He turned his head to look out the front window of the ship, though it was too dark in this stretch of space to see much more than a reflection of what was happening inside the cockpit.

They had to find a craft with more room before he went insane.

Still, he didn’t complain about being able to see the strong, lithe form of the swordsmech kneeling over him. He offlined his optics to stop himself from staring, and berated himself for being an old pervert.

“There, how does that feel?” Drift asked as he removed his hands and sat back on his knees, placed either side of the medic’s legs. Ratchet watched his head tilt questioningly.

“Perfect,” he muttered, and watched him encourage the plating on his back to transform back down to normal. He felt Drift move back again and watched his fingers come to rest on his own thigh.

Drift glanced over at the window and seemed to notice him staring. Ratchet averted his gaze quickly, but not before catching the cheeky mech run his hands up and down his round thighs. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked with a smirk.

“ _No_ ,” Ratchet snapped automatically.

“Are you sure?” Drift asked, leaning over and shuffling up a little so he could line his mouth up with his audio sensors.

Ratchet remained silent for a moment too long before replying quietly. “You’re too young for me. And you’re meant to be my patient.”

“Oh well, that’s too bad. Because you’re one of the few people who are trustworthy enough for me,” Drift admitted quietly as he sat up again.

Ratchet tried to twist around and look up at him properly, but immediately regretted it when his back twinged. He grunted in pain, reaching back in a fruitless attempt to push it away for just a bit longer.

“Careful, careful,” Drift murmured and applied some comforting pressure so he could relax.

Ratchet pressed his lip plates together when he realised he was going to be stuck here for some time yet. Well, perhaps _stuck_ was being a bit harsh, but still…

“You know, I don’t care how old you are. I’m not a sparkling. And, well, you’re not my doctor so much as a medic who happens to be on the same vessel, at this point,” he said quietly.

Ratchet offlined his optics again, feeling his nervous system was beginning to settle down. “If you feel like you owe me something, you don’t.”

“This feeling is similar to that, but different. I want to interface because, well, it’s _you_.”

Ratchet’s brow lowered in contemplation and glanced at the window again. He noticed Drift was sitting up perfectly straight with his shoulders thrown back confidently. His legs were open a bit wider than would be comfortable naturally, and his hip jutted to the side to fully display his shapely legs and rear.

“Well, if you actually want to, I’m not going to say no,” he eventually replied.

His spark warmed at the look of delight that crossed the young mech’s face. “How’s your back?”

“I should be all right if we don’t move around too much.”

“All right,” he murmured, leaning forward to tenderly trace his lips over his cheek and neck so he wouldn’t have to twist around again for an intimate gesture. Ratchet shuddered at the gentle sensations and found his optics drawn back to the window as if magnetised.

“You like watching?” Drift murmured, pulling back to run a hand down Ratchet’s side, fingers running over his blocky corners smoothly.

Ratchet felt himself heat up at the question and grumbled, “Obviously.”

“I’d better give you something worth looking at then,” he said quietly as he shuffled around a bit, repositioning his leg. “Can you open your legs?”

Ratchet complied and felt Drift’s knees settle between them. Drift stretched his arms forward, hands resting either side of Ratchet’s head as his back arched. He rocked forward smoothly, letting his still-covered interface equipment drag over Ratchet’s backside. He could feel the heat emitting from him.

Ratchet let the soft sound of need queuing up in his vocaliser out, and it seemed to encourage Drift all the more. He shifted his weight back onto his knees and moved his hands over Ratchet’s hips and aft. The hands drifted over his thighs, right down to the backs of his knees, before those fingers moved back up and through the gap between his legs and panels.

Ratchet clenched his hands under his head and let out another small moan. This encouraged his partner to reach for the panelling that protected his interfacing equipment. He was mortified to realise his panels were parting already, and became even more so when the fingers massaging his valve entrance revealed how wet he was already.

“Oh Ratchet,” Drift murmured as he leaned closer to his valve, letting his aft rise on the way down. “If it always gets you going like this, I should show off for you more often.”

“Just get on with it,” he huffed, finding it more difficult to keep his composure.

Drift moved even further back, moving his knees and lying on his stomach. He bent his dangling legs at the knee to both prevent his feet from floating around awkwardly and to show off his impressive leg strength somewhat.

Ratchet felt his valve seemed to be impressed, at least, and became even more so when a soft glossa replaced the probing fingers at his entrance. The lube-coated fingers slid up to his external sensors as the glossa stroked him.

“D-Drift,” he moaned, shoulders tensing as his head raised from the berth slightly.

“Yes?” he paused in his ministrations to ask.

Ratchet groaned with frustration. “Don’t _stop_ ,” he complained.

Drift’s glossa returned to his valve and he moaned in relief. He dipped inside of him, stroking the inner sensors he could reach with care. The sensation was pleasant, but now that he was warmed up, Ratchet wanted more.

“You going to use your spike or what?”

Drift withdrew and looked at him with surprise. “Will your back be all right?”

“Let me get on my hands and knees and we should be fine,” he grunted. “Don’t need your nonsense to know _that_.”

Drift shifted again, helping him to get up before retracting his interfacing panel. Ratchet badly wanted to turn around and watch him jerk himself to full hardness, but he had learnt from his last mistake. The window made a good substitute for now.

Drift seemed to suddenly remember he was watching him and raised the arm that wasn’t busy to reach up and cup his shoulder blade, stretching out and displaying the curves of his torso. He bucked his hips into his hand. “Ratchet,” he moaned, for good measure.

Now that Ratchet’s spike had room to emerge, it decided to show its appreciation. His optics met Drift’s in the reflection and he winked.

“You ready?”

Ratchet nodded vigorously and braced himself for the penetration. Part of him sighed in relief when the spike fit comfortably, and he bit his lip when Drift began to move.

“So good,” Drift mumbled, taking hold of his hips.

“Oh just get on with it,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up nonetheless.

“Do you know how long I’ve been fantasising about this for?” he asked in a sultry tone before picking up his pace.

“If you’ve got nothing better to jerk off to than me, you know you’re out of options, kid,” he replied, ignoring the fact the dirty talk had his fans whirring whether it was true or not.

“Hmm, I don’t think that’s the case,” he replied, grabbing Ratchet’s spike and stroking it in time with his enthusiastic thrusts. “You’ve always been there for me. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you, we both know that.”

Ratchet glanced down at the berth between his hands. Or rather, Pharma’s hands, which he wouldn’t have if it weren’t for Drift. “There’s more than one way to save a life.”

Drift whimpered softly and changed the angle of his thrusts. Ratchet gasped and had to prevent himself from instinctively curling into the pleasure. His back would hardly thank him for that.

They became faster and sloppier with their movements until the combination of sensations finally became too much. His transfluid shot over Drift’s hand and the berth. The swordsmech shuddered and followed suit a few thrusts later.

Ratchet carefully lowered his tired frame back to the berth, and Drift withdrew from him as he did so. He reached over to the energon storage unit from where he was sitting; the only advantage of living in such confined quarters, Ratchet was sure.

“That was… thanks.”

Drift smiled lazily and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, leaving one of the portions of energon next to his head. “How long until we get to Cybertron, again?”

Ratchet gazed at him in the window, watching his posture slacken as he relaxed into his usual endearing self. “Not long enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all been giving me the Dratchet feels!


End file.
